Overkill
by 3AM
Summary: AU Oneshot, any more might spoil the ending.


Swish swish swish, you think to yourself. That's onomatopoeia by the way, you're not actively swishing anything after all. It is simply the noise the kunai makes as it spins around the slender index finger of your right hand. That ring at the end of the knife's handle is good for more than just wire work, you think. Faster and faster it spins, until the swishing pulses meld together into a continuous whine of displaced air, screaming as the blade parts it, only to slam back into the vacuum left behind an instant later. The kunai is spinning handily now, a blur of motion of indeterminate shape and purpose, but you know its a knife, hell it even sounds like a knife after all. Oh look, the other ninja knows its a knife too.

So here you are spinning a knife around your finger as you stare down Madara. As you think about it you realize you're not being very intimidating, this isn't what S class is all about. So you're going to rectify that, right? Yeah you are. Your muscles don't even protest as you reach inside yourself for the vast energies in the core of your being with an idle thought and channel them into the functions of your finger. The speed of its orbits double and double again as you actually put some small amount of effort into spinning that knife. Metal begins to warp as the centrifugal forces deform the perfect ring of tempered steel into an egg shape, slightly pointed at the far side where the pressure of your finger stands resolutely against the forces ready to send the blade arcing outwards the moment you release it.

"It would seem you should have equipped yourself with tools of a higher quality." That's cute how he notices your weapon breaking, subject to the stresses you are inflicting on it, and dismisses it as poor metalworking. Those eyes of his don't miss much, but his reasoning leaves a lot to be desired. You are S class. It even says it right there in the bingo book, but you don't get any respect. He is doubting you like others before him. Like them, you will have to show him proof of your skills as well. Thinking about it, you realize you can offer a token defence for every one's (incorrect) perspective. You do not appear to be S class. You hardly appear to be mid range B class on your best day for that matter. Until you start killing people. So many people.

Nope, definitely don't look like a killer, but you look great though, if that's any consolation. A softly featured face with large, expressive blue eyes and a beautiful smile, completely genuine and warm. Long twin tales of golden yellow hair, that cascade down either side of your face until they reach past your shapely curvaceous waist. You don't think much of your body, but others would happily attest to your beauty. Wait, where were you? You're thinking about how you look, that's silly, you know what you look like. Right, you were going to show Madara proof of your skill. By killing him. With little effort.

Swishswishswish... (Onomatopoeia remember)

"I suggest you make a token effort to kill me, lest I make the first-" BOOMBOOMBOOM. He cuts off his speech as a cacophony of sound erupts from your right hand. But it is no sound technique. Your hand is moving faster still, and now it is breaking the sound barrier repeatedly with every arc the blade cuts through the air. A dull cone of vapor forms around your right hand and blows away again and again.

Madara raises an eyebrow. Your wrist twitches.

You appreciate your work as it unfolds. The kunai flings itself free from your confinement and plows along your carefully determined vector. A bigger vapor cloud blossoms around it as you watch it fly in slow motion. It glows white hot as it streaks through the space between you and a dead man. Molten metal flows backwards along the blade, as wind friction melts the white hot knife, tip first. A molten blob of metal (vaguely kunai shaped) slams into Madara's chest at ~.25 of c. The impact depress the flesh around the epicenter inward like a crater. The 'knife' continues onward. As a yellow streak of metal screeches into the sky, in excess of escape velocity, you watch a man die. His chest caves further inward as kinetic forces attempt and succeed in turning him literally inside out. A red circle of gore expands backward as vortexes in the air blow human flesh and bone outward like an expanding smoke ring. You don't bother to dodge as a misty backwash paints the front of your body a finely splotchy red. You are too busy watching. Madara did not get to watch. It happened too fast for his sharingan to register it.

You look down at the state of your clothes with displeasure, you really liked that black and blue dress.

Someone begins cheering you and others join in. You have saved the day.

But wait. That isn't your name they are shouting. Who the hell is Namikaze? You've only been here a month though, maybe you just look like... wait him? There is another bad ass blond killing machine and he is a crossdresser? Well no, not necessarily, you've seen weirder, like gender changers, magic and all that shit.

You put on your best smile and walk over to your admirers.

Your name is Bubbles, you are joy and laughter.

AN  
>So I had a nastalgiagassam and though it would be a good idea to tell a story about three teammates. The cheerful blond one that was able to find the best in everyone and fight resolutely for what they believed in. The Pink one, who means well, but lacked some common sense and followed the rules too closely in her role as de facto leader. And the dark haired broody one that had a tough exterior but was just as vulnerable inside as the other two. Then I remembered I like Naruto also...<p>

So yeah, this is a snippet of a Fic I might write. The plot would be something like: Mojo-jojo creates a dimension shifting device and Blossom is killed when it explodes. Buttercup is injured, losing at least one limb and maybe an eye. She and Bubbles are thrown into world hopping adventures, separated at first. Bubbles would go through some perspective altering experiences involving watching new friends suffer and die until this point where she would be rather hardened, yet comfortable with her new sense of self.

Scratch that, enjoy my one shot, I will probably never write more. But spread the work everyone: CHALLENGE Fic - PPG MultiXover following above outline!

~3AM peace!


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